


Indulgences

by Scmnz



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Experimentation with efforts, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Masturbation, Multiple types of efforts, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slight pining, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scmnz/pseuds/Scmnz
Summary: Good food and nice clothes aren't the only ways the angel likes to indulge himself. Sometimes when he's feeling especially decadent he likes to close up shop early and 'make a night of it'. But try as he might, he finds himself thinking of a certain demon in a less than innocent way.





	Indulgences

Aziraphale closed the bookstore. It was only half past five, but it had been a rather long time since he had indulged himself and he felt he deserved it. He rather liked earthly pleasures, fine fabrics, good food, and so forth. And sometimes after a particularly hard day, he liked to take some time for himself, as it were.

 

He locked the shop door and drew the shades tight before gathering everything he could want on a night of his own.

 

The angel settles into the couch, loosening his bowtie. He already feels a little hot and flustered at the prospect of the evening, and it hasn’t even begun.

 

 He opens the racy novel he’s selected for the evening. The cover features a shirtless man’s thin torso with light ginger hair trailing down his stomach. Not that that signifies anything! He selected the novel at random. There was no hidden reason he had been drawn to that particular book, he persuades himself.

 

Aziraphale gently places a chocolate covered strawberry into his mouth, moaning at the rich taste, as he skims the first few pages of the novel. It’s standard stuff, unrequited love, longing, no one communicating properly with each other. It’s not horribly written, but it doesn’t really appeal to Aziraphale (it’s too close to home for comfort). Idly he lifts up his shirt and rubs his chest, while he flips forward a few chapters. Honestly, these characters just needed to talk and get on with it.

 

He has a good body, he thinks. It may not be in style, as Gabriel so _kindly_ liked to remind him, but it was luxurious and soft. His fingers slide downwards, stroking the blond curls on his belly, feeling the warm skin move easily at his touch. He found the idea of being ashamed of such a body ridiculous. But that was humanity for you, forever finding new things to shame each other for. Absentmindedly he pressed the skin a little more roughly and grabbed another strawberry.

 

Ah, this chapter was titled “Confession” which probably meant it was getting to the good bit. The angel chewed slowly while scanning and… There. They were kissing. He allowed his hand to reach lower, unbuttoning his trousers and slipping down under the elastic of his pants. His breath hitched as he brushed through the courser hair down here. He squeezed the soft, plump curve of one inner thigh and sighed, letting his head tip back and losing track of the words on the page for a moment.

 

After a few moments of just _feeling_ , of allowing his want to grow, he plucked another chocolate, allowing the sweetness to melt on his tongue as he returned to the book. He pictured himself in the place of the heroine, with the taste something far less sweet but equally exciting in his mouth. He shifted his hand, brushing his fingers against his now hardening shaft.

 

The lovers from his novel had now discarded their clothing and were doing something he was fairly certain wasn’t actually possible with human anatomy. Not that Aziraphale had any experience in that area. He dragged his thumb over the tip of his cock and moaned. However unrealistic these kinds of stories were they were still fun.

 

As he moves a bit faster, it becomes more difficult for Aziraphale to keep his focus on the words before him, to keep the hand holding the book steady. Soon enough he drops the book altogether. His hips twitch and he places a final strawberry into his mouth, muffling a whimper.

 

Aziraphale brings his now book-free hand up under his shirt, lightly grazing his nipple. He revels in the sensations, the heat and passion of it all. He strokes himself faster, applying more pressure. Aziraphale collapses onto his side, pressing his body into the leather couch as he moves. He’s panting now, and desperate. His hand on his chest gently glides over the warm flesh, rubbing slow circles down from his nipples to his belly. He’s close now, he can feel it, as he pants and whimpers.

 

A soft keening noise escapes his lips as his hand brushes over the head of his cock. He rubs there again, trembling, hips twitching. Any second now. Aziraphale rolls over, grinding himself into the couch, eyes shut tight. After four more frantic strokes at his shaft, he climaxes with a groan. The angel falls limp against the soft silky surface, breathing unsteady.

 

 

After a few minutes lying there, Aziraphale regained his senses. He sat up and stretched before miracling the clothes he still wore clean.

 

He retrieved the erotic novel from the floor and walked over to a shelf. He grabbed a bottle of wine, Riesling 1971, and poured a generous helping into a glass.

 

Aziraphale wandered up the stairs, sipping at the wine, from his shop to his small apartment above it. Most of the space was largely unused. He didn’t think he’d set foot in the bedroom for at least a hundred years, except to clean. There was a study, but for the most part, he read down in the shop. The only room up here that saw any real use was the bathroom. He entered this room now.

 

The main (and really only) draw of this room was the tub. It was large and deep and could hold enough water to fully submerge Aziraphale. On a shelf and under the sink were a collection of items. Bubble bath, bath bombs, various scented oils, and miscellaneous other products for when Aziraphale felt like pampering himself. Such as he was doing today.

 

Aziraphale started the water running, nice and steaming hot, and poured in a couple drops of bubble bath.

 

As the tub filled, Aziraphale slowly undressed himself. First, he removed his bowtie, already loosened from his earlier exertions. He stroked the satin lovingly before setting it down on the counter. He moved on to his shirt, slowly undoing the buttons one by one. It felt almost like he was putting on a show, though of course, the only audience was himself. He folded the shirt neatly and set it by the bowtie.

 

 The angel let his eyes shift to the mirror and examined his reflection approvingly. Pride and vanity were both sins of course, but there was nothing wrong with a little self-confidence was there? He ran his hands over the curves of his torso gently, indulgently. He let out a soft sigh and smiled.

 

Then off came his shoes and socks. Nothing particularly interesting about that but it had to be done. And he supposed if he ever did something like this in front of _someone else_ they’d enjoy the view of him bending over to do so. That thought made him shiver.

 

Aziraphale gulps down some more wine before glancing down at his trousers and realizing he never rebuttoned them. No matter, he slid them off with somewhat less grace than the rest of his clothes. They were old fashioned and so harder to remove than a newer pair of pants may have been, but soon enough that too was taken care of.

 

He glanced at himself in the mirror again, looked at the bulge in his underpants. That had certainly been a nice start to the evening, a thought as he finished his glass. But perhaps he would wrap up the night with something different. Yes. He focused and his body shift accordingly. Yes, this in the hot water would be a nice change of pace.

 

He poured himself another glass of wine. Aziraphale wasn’t drunk yet, by any means, but his thoughts felt nice and floaty as he waited for the tub to fill. A nice layer of bubbles had formed, and they shone in the harsh light of the bathroom. That gave him an idea, and soon that light had been replaced with several flickering candles. He was treating himself tonight after all.

 

They filled the room with the pleasant scent of lavender. And finding and lighting the candles had killed enough time that the tub was full and his second glass of wine was empty. He grabbed a few rose petals from the cupboard and placed them atop the foam.

 

 

Aziraphale let himself sink into the warm water, fluffy with bubbles, with a contented sigh. For several long minutes, he didn’t move at all. He simply allowed all his muscles to relax, knots he didn’t know he had were releasing. His head tipped back and rested on the tubs edge, his eyes closed.

 

The dim candlelight, combined with the soapy water, made the expanse of his body barely visible. But that only made the other senses stronger. The smell of lavender, and soap, and rose. The sounds of splashing whenever he shifted. The remaining taste of wine and chocolate lingering on his tongue. And of course the feel of warm water, and his own soft skin against his hands.

 

He massaged himself, starting with his arms and working slowly downwards. Feeling the already relaxed muscles loosening yet more. Later, the angel paid particular attention to his thighs, stroking and squeezing them sensually.

 

Eventually, when his whole body felt so relaxed he could have drifted off to sleep, Aziraphale shifted his attention to his crotch. He lightly ran his thumb over his clit. The muscles of his thighs that he had spent so much time releasing tightened deliciously.

 

He pressed slightly harder, dragging the nub of skin in a slow circle and moaned. His other hand reached down and massaged the lips. The soft skin shifted, pliable against his fingers. He shifted his hips, spreading his legs further and sinking deeper into the layer of suds.

 

A fingernail accidentally caught sharply on his clit and his back arched, legs clamping around his hand as a jolt of heat coursed through his body. Aziraphale repeated the motion, and his head fell back with a cry.

 

Several minutes later he was panting and quivering. It was _good_ , but it wasn’t nearly enough stimulation. He needed something more. A vague thought about vibrators crossed his mind, but the heat of the water caressed his body, encouraging the heat curled in his body. It wasn't worth a frivolous miracle, nor the break in concentration that would be required, since that would break the building tension in the worst way.

 

He shifted one hand to his own backside. Aziraphale squeezed, feeling the soft flesh give. It felt nice, but not exactly stimulating in the way he needed right now. But the idea of Cr- of someone else squeezing there, enjoying the supple heat. That was certainly exciting. The idea of someone else seeing him and _wanting_ his body. That might just be enough to push him over the edge.

 

The problem is, Aziraphale is a bit tipsy, and light headed from the warm steam and pleasure. And he wasn’t with it enough to keep his fantasies vague. He had no novel’s hero to imagine, so the images now flooding his mind? They were of yellow eyes staring at him with longing, of ginger hair, of his scent. He couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t really want to.

 

Aziraphale gave his ass one last, long squeeze, rougher than he normally would have. Would Crowley be rough? Perhaps. Then he let go and moved that hand to his mouth. He brushed his pinky against his lower lip, imagining a forked tongue.

 

Lower, he plunged a single finger of his other hand inside himself. _Oh._ He clenched his thighs and whimpered, grinding against his hand. One finger wasn’t as big as _that_ would be. He slid another in and pressed upward. A spasm sent water and bubbles cascading from the tub onto the floor. His hips shifted and Aziraphale began to thrust into himself, whimpering. His hips jerked and more water splashed from the tub. The angel _whimpered._ “Oh Crowley! Faster.”

 

He was almost there, head thrown back with soap bubbles in his hair and water everywhere. The hot pressure, the desire, drove him to keep going. Sharp movements, bucking his hips, and driving his fingers deeper and deeper into his body. He moved the hand from his mouth to press down hard on his clit. Aziraphale’s back arched and his body spasmed again as he let out a strangled noise. This feeling was intoxicating.

 

He rode the waves of sensation through the rest of his climax before falling breathless against the edge of the tub. Idly he ran his hands over his sudsy body as he regathered his thoughts.

 

Aziraphale wondered if perhaps he ought to feel ashamed, thinking of Crowley like that. He didn’t feel any guilt though. In fact, he was rather looking forward to the idea of taking another evening like this for himself soon.  

**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt from https://onthedisc.dreamwidth.org/9084.html  
> This is my first time writing smut so I hope you enjoyed it.


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